Page 56 of 7 Days and 7 Nights

“Olivia.” With his lips welded to hers, his voice was muffled, and he had to open his mouth wider to try again. At which point she slipped her tongue through the opening to search for his.

“This is not a good idea.” He must have hit his head harder than he’d realized, because that seemed to be his voice sounding the note of reason.

Olivia didn’t bother to respond verbally, but her nonverbal responses couldn’t have been clearer. Her thumb traced the curve of his ear, while her tongue found and parried with his. Her breasts splayed across his chest, their hardened nipples pressing intimately against him until all he could think of was pushing her onto her back and driving himself inside her. Under the table. In the middle of the kitchen. With an Internet audience wondering where in the hell they’d gone and hearing some interesting sounds.

Matt halted the kiss. He bracketed her face in his hands and turned it up to his. She was all of the things he’d been angling for all week: dazed, confused, and totally hot for him. So why did he feel so reluctant to take advantage of the opportunity?

He stared down into the trusting green eyes and groaned inwardly. “Olivia, we need to stop this right now.”

“But I want you,” she mumbled, somehow managing to sound more sad than surprised. “Always wanted you.”

He saw her eyes lose their focus and watched her head tilt sideways. Then she yawned, tucked her head up against his chest like a kitten seeking comfort, and went completely limp in his arms.

Some of the starch went out of him then, too. The pounding of his heart slowed, the heat that possessed him cooled, and the throbbing in his loins dulled to a mild ache. He stroked her hair and dropped a kiss onto the silken top of her head. As she snuggled more tightly against his chest, he gathered her in close.

Then he did the only thing he could think of on the spur of the moment: He dragged her out from under the table and slapped her gently on both cheeks while mouthing, “Olivia, are you all right?” for the benefit of the Internet audience. Then he slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carted her off to her bedroom, where he managed to rouse her long enough to pour some water and two Tylenol down her throat before tucking her into bed.

???

JoBeth stopped beside Dawg’s table. Reaching into the pocket of her apron, she asked, “What’ll it be? I’ve got Zantac, Pepcid AC, or the old standby.” She dropped a packet of Alka-Seltzer onto the tabletop.

"Can I take all of them?”

“Don’t see why not. You’ve had everything else on the menu.”

Dawg put a fist to his mouth and belched discreetly. “That I have, darlin’. And I have to admit I’m a mite full.”

"Dawg Rollins, you were ready to explode two hours ago. I’ve never seen a man pack away that much food in one sitting.”

“That’s what desperation’ll do for you. Thank God you’re off the clock. I don’t think I could have held that table for another minute.”

“Well, Ina’s bound to wonder what’s going on, but I doubt she’ll complain about a ticket this big. I’ve got a doggie bag packed for you to take home.” She grinned evilly as she pressed the brown paper sack into his hands. "In case you get hungry in the middle of the night or something.”

Dawg groaned. “It is the middle of the night, and even if it weren’t, I don’t plan to eat ever again.”

They walked together out into the empty parking lot, and JoBeth looked around in confusion. Her car sat under the streetlamp where she always parked when she worked nights, and the cook’s battered pickup sat a few spaces from it, but there was no sign of Dawg’s bright red Jeep.

She eyed him suspiciously. “You don’t look like a man who thinks his ride has been stolen. What’s going on?”

“Had a friend drop me.”

“Oh, really?”

“Now don’t get that angry tone going, JoBeth. I knew I wasn’t leaving the diner without you, and I didn’t see any reason to juggle cars.”

“You are entirely too sure of yourself, Dawg. If you think you caneatyour way back into my good graces, you are sadly mistaken.”

“All I’m hoping for is a chance to talk, JoBeth. I spent more than six hours eating; don’t you think I’ve earned the right to be heard?”

JoBeth took out the keys to her twelve-year-old Cadillac. “Fine. I’ll drive while you talk. But don’t even be thinking romance.”

“Get real, woman. I’ve been eating for six hours, I don’t have a romantic inkling in my body.”

He held the driver’s door open for her like he always did, and JoBeth brushed by him to take her seat. Outwardly she remained cool, but her insides felt all warm and gooey. The man had eaten a refrigerator full of food just to be near her; in her book it didn’t get much more romantic than that.

The Cadillac caught on the second try, and JoBeth gave it a little extra gas before putting it into gear.

“Don’t forget to take the car over to Joe for servicing. He told me he thought he could take care of that starter for you.”

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